


Do It For the Gram

by DoreyG



Category: Raffles - E. W. Hornung
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon typical Crossdressing, First Kiss, Getting Together, Instagram, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27898465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: “You have Instagram?” Raffles asked, looking up from his own phone - where he was probably checking matters of far greater importance - with an interested look in his eye.
Relationships: Bunny Manders/A. J. Raffles
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Do It For the Gram

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LugianBeforeSwine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LugianBeforeSwine/gifts).



**1.**

After our first successful heist together Raffles persuaded me to go down the pub with him. Well, I say pub. Raffles’ idea of a pub apparently consisted of a high class bistro bar that I wouldn't have been able to set foot in just a week ago. I would’ve protested usually, with any other friend, but with Raffles I was still so reluctantly awestruck that it was hard to force any such words past my lips. It wasn’t that bad, not really; the company, in the end, made every bit of pretentiousness worth it.

We talked for what seemed like hours, and probably was hours considering the movement of the clock on the wall, and it all felt incredibly natural. Day had melted smoothly into twilight when we finally stopped talking with such intensity. I hadn’t avoided checking my phone for so long in my life, and I half expected to have to deal with hundreds of notifications as I slid my finger on the screen to open it. Luckily I was being overdramatic, only a few emails and a message from my mum on Facebook, but there was one Instagram notification that I was actually interested in even if it was probably just another spam account; I tapped on it, waited patiently for the app to open…

“You have Instagram?” Raffles asked, looking up from his own phone - where he was probably checking matters of far greater importance - with an interested look in his eye.

He shocked me, I can’t deny. Raffles was only a few years older than me, and obviously in possession of his own smartphone and everything that came along with it, but for some reason I had thought him far too sensible to know what Instagram was. I found myself blushing, narrowly fighting the urge to just shove my phone back in my pocket and change the subject. “Uh, yes?”

Raffles wasn’t staring at me with any kind of scorn, though, with any kind of implied judgement for me being so foolish as to get dragged into such a thing. Instead he was only looking at me with interest, like I was the most fascinating person in the world. “What’s your handle?”

“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested in following me,” I stuttered, rather undone by having him look at me in such a way. I had had both girlfriends and boyfriends, all of them who had liked me for at least a brief period, but I had never had anybody look at me in the way that Raffles was looking at me now. “I mainly post just nature pictures and selfies, it’s all a bit silly really.”

“My dear…” Raffles started in a persuasive tone, and then hesitated. For a long moment I thought he was about to soothe me, to say compliments to go along with that intense look in his eyes, and I genuinely wasn’t sure how to react to that. “Is it your real name? Your full name, I should say, because I will always think of your real name as Bunny.”

“Uh, no,” I murmured, blushing and genuinely not sure if I was relieved or disappointed. “Bit of a mouthful, don’t you think? Besides, I’m pretty sure that my family would find an Instagram account worse than actual bankruptcy.”

“They always did have strange priorities,” Raffles said, making my heart grow several sizes at the show of him defending me, and leant slowly in across the table. His eyes were mischievous but intense, and I already knew that I wouldn’t be able to resist him. “Bunny, _please_. I promise that I won’t misuse this information, I’m just interested to see what you’re like when you’re not, ah…”

“Begging you for help to fix my own foolish mistakes?”

“I would’ve put it a touch more kindly, but yes.”

I resisted for a long few moments more, which was one of the hardest things that I’d ever done in the face of his imploring eyes, but we both knew it was a foregone conclusion. In the end I sighed, and crossed my arms across my chest as I gave in. “Fine. If you really must know it’s BunnyM. Capital B, capital M. All one word.”

I wasn’t expecting very much, certainly not for Raffles to immediately give me a small smile and go back to tapping on his phone at a rather high speed. Like he actually wanted to find me, like he actually cared about seeing what I put up.

“I’m not even sure you’re going to be able to find it,” I said, and shifted uncomfortably in my chair. I had always felt odd about attention, both desperately longing after it and desperately loathing it all at once. Especially when it came to attention from somebody like Raffles, who - for all his obvious immorality - was handsome and charming and willing to rescue me from the most intense of troubles. “Bunny is such a silly nickname, after all. You’re probably likely to get just a lot of cute pet accounts. Not that I should be complaining, they’re probably a lot more interesting than-”

My phone buzzed, halfway through my nervous babbling, and I glanced down at it in shock. I didn’t know what I had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t another notification from Instagram to tell me that **@Gentlemancricketer** had followed me.

“Is that…?” I asked, even though it was the most obvious thing in the world and I probably looked like an arrant fool for questioning, and tapped immediately on the notification to view his account and follow him in return. His account was far less full than mine, considering that it seemed to consist of only one picture of Raffles looking rather incredibly handsome in his cricket whites…

And then my phone buzzed once more, and I was distracted once again. **@Gentlemancricketer** , Raffles on Instagram, had left a comment under my latest photo. A particularly uninspired one, I had thought myself, just a selfie of me standing under a particularly pretty tree in a park near my flat.

**@Gentlemancricketer** : This is good!! Looking forward to seeing more 😉

My cheeks were aflame, and I didn’t even bother to hide it. To receive a compliment from Raffles, even if it was online instead of face to face, was an incredibly heady thing. I looked up at him, uncertain and agonisingly hopeful, and found him giving me an indulgent smile. “I, uh, thank you-”

“Don’t mention it,” Raffles said, perfectly urbane, and slid his phone away into the pocket of his tailored - or, at the very least, I swore they were tailored - trousers. And then his smile grew into a grin, and he leant across the table again with that old spirit of mischief alive and well in his eyes. “Now, let’s get back to business. We can afford to rest for a while longer, but I’ve had my eye on a certain set of jewels for months now…”

\--

**2.**

You would think that I’d actually get a good night’s sleep the day after a complicated heist in which we’d almost got caught twice, but the adrenaline played havoc with me even with my undeniable tiredness and as it was I only managed to get about three hours. I did at least manage to close my eyes, but by six in the morning - exactly timed with the sun rising over the horizon - I was awake in bed and my mind was racing fast enough that I well knew that no further rest would be possible.

I sighed, and rolled over in bed to grab my phone where I’d put it on the side table. It was fully charged, which was something. I unlocked it - having recently changed the passcode to the date when I had met Raffles for the first time - and clicked over to Instagram almost addictively. There wasn’t much of interest there, a few updates from acquaintances and one or two rather charming pet pictures, but it was still a good way to spend a mindless few hours before I absolutely had to rise.

I scrolled for a while, but soon an impulse came upon me that I had to follow. I checked that I was still wearing my pyjamas, grateful that it was still just cold enough that I didn’t feel the need to forgo my pyjama shirt in aid of not boiling, and once that was done lifted my phone over my head and took a quick snap.

It wasn’t the best picture, I obviously hadn’t slept all that well and my eyes were swollen and my hair helplessly ruffled, but I felt a need to catalogue this moment after yet another successful heist. To remember this feeling of tiredness mixed in with triumph, and also perhaps to provide a way to prove that I’d been in bed all night if anybody came knocking. I stared at my own face for a long moment, thinking, and then took the steps to post it to Instagram before I could think better of it.

“@ **BunnyM** : ever have one of those nights where u just can’t get off? feel v sleepy, but guess i still have to start the day soon. oh well, could b worse #noregrets #blessed #sleepyaf”

It wasn’t the longest caption I’d ever written, I was half tempted to go back and beef it up with some quotes with my favourite authors later, but it got the general gist of the matter across. I tossed my phone back on the side, and buried my head back under the pillow. I was unlikely to get any responses to that soon, if ever, and if I played my cards right I could maybe get in an extra half hour or so of dozing before I actually had to go face the day.

Imagine my surprise, then, when my phone buzzed barely a minute later.

I frowned, and took the pillow off my face. I sat up in bed, and stared at my phone warily for a long moment. And then, when it didn’t buzz again, I tentatively reached out for it and opened it up again. What I saw there shouldn’t have shocked me, but I would be a liar if I didn’t admit that my heart pounded in my chest.

**@Gentlemancricketer:** Wish I looked as good as you while sleepy! 😉 You look nice!! Hope you get some rest soon, not that you need your beauty sleep.

I blinked at my phone in utter astonishment. Ever since I had reluctantly given Raffles my handle, about two months ago now, he had been the most regular presence on my Instagram imaginable. Every post, from selfies to nature shots and everything in between, had led to a comment from him. And not just a comment, but often the most flattering comments imaginable. Like that I didn’t need my beauty sleep, like that I obviously had a beautiful eye for beautiful things, like that I was handsome.

I didn’t entirely know what to make of it, to tell truth. It wasn’t as if Raffles was harsh to me in person, far from it, but he was a great deal less complimentary than this. I already had a crush on him, the old one from when we’d been at school together blossoming into a more adult form, and this hardly improved matters. I wanted… But was confused over whether I was actually allowed to want.

I did know one thing though, no matter how confused I was, and that was Raffles’ sleep patterns. He had always been a bit of an insomniac at school, many was the time that I’d be dragged from my bed in the middle of the night to go off on some ill-advised adventure, and that apparently hadn’t changed in the years that we’d been apart. He still kept strange hours, and that had started to worry me in a way it never had when I’d been a selfish fourteen year old.

I hesitated for a moment, but in the end my decision was simple. I was never not going to be concerned for Raffles. I clicked off my notifications, and went immediately to the messenger instead.

\-- --- 06:13 am

 **BunnyM** are u really still up

 **Gentlemancricketer:** Are you really talking to me using text speak??

 **BunnyM:** sorry  
no, wait, somebody who uses multiple exclamation points has no right to lecture me about anything  
are u really still up answer me

 **Gentlemancricketer** : I always find it a bit hard to calm down after… You know. I need a bit before my brain can stop turning. It’s been this way for years now. You really shouldn’t worry about it.

 **BunnyM** : of course im going to worry about u  
haha "you know".makes it sound like we hooked up or something

 **Gentlemancricketer** : If only! 😉

 **BunnyM** : raffles…

 **GentlemanCricketer** : ...Bunny?

 **BunnyM** : nothing  
try and get some rest okay. i dont want u to get into any trouble

 **Gentlemancricketer** : Don’t NAG, Bunny, I’ll go and lie in bed and stare at the ceiling as soon as possible. I’m sure it’ll be most invigorating 😉  
Thank you, by the way.  
Both for caring, and for being there for me lately. It’s nicer than I thought it would be, to have somebody there besides me.

 **BunnyM** : dont mention it ☺️

Despite myself I was smiling, as I clicked off his last message and buried my head under the pillow again. My life had become a lot more complicated since Raffles had entered it again, but already I wouldn’t change it for the world.

\--

**3.**

In the following months we did heist after heist together, and grew even closer in the process. I knew that I should probably be utterly horrified by the life of crime that Raffles was consciously drawing me into, but somehow horror wasn’t the emotion foremost in my mind. I had already had a barely hidden crush on him as a schoolboy, and as an adult those old emotions quickly returned in force. He was so quick witted, so charming, so wonderfully daring; it wasn’t really a wonder that I fell head over heels for him, the only wonder was that everybody else didn’t feel much the same way.

The only problem, the only fly in the ointment besides the whole breaking the law thing, was that I genuinely had no idea if Raffles felt the same way about me. He sometimes looked at me with such wonderful fondness in his eyes, but was just as liable to ignore me entirely. He seemed to need me by his side on a near constant basis, but was loathe to tell me more than a quarter of his plans. He complimented me amply on Instagram, but in real life not a breath of a compliment had ever crossed his lips. It was… Confusing.

Most of the time, though, I could forget my confusion - the confusion that now bordered on hurt - in the giddiness of Raffles’ company. Like tonight, just after another heist when we were dividing up the loot together in our hotel room.

Raffles had gone briefly to the toilet, I suspected still hyped up on the adrenaline of what we had just done, and I was left alone with the pieces. I didn’t have as keen an eye for this sort of thing as Raffles, who I thought could’ve legitimately made it as a valuer of jewels, but I could still tell that the haul we’d brought in tonight was particularly fine. My eyes kept being drawn to it like a magpie; all that glittering silver and gold, all that carefully tucked away bounty, all those rings and tiaras and glorious necklaces…

It would be deeply foolish to take a picture with any of them, and basically announce our crimes to the world, but my fingers were itchy and I was hyped up a little beyond the point of sense myself. I hesitated for a moment, trying desperately to restrain myself, and then gave in and grabbed for the pile. I deliberately rummaged until I found one of the less impressive pieces, a silver tiara that was spindly and delicate and faded enough that it looked almost unimpressive.

I placed it on my head, and adjusted it so that it didn’t dig in too badly. I slid my phone out of the pockets of my jeans, and opened up the camera app. I twisted a little, trying to make sure that I got the perfect light and a good view of the glitter of silver in my hair…

I twisted enough that the camera captured Raffles standing in the doorway behind me, leaning there with his hands in his pockets and a small frown upon his handsome face. “What are you doing?”

“Oh!” I said, and almost dropped my phone. I managed to catch it at the last moment with a fumble, ever wary of cracking the screen beyond repair, and twisted until I could face him. His expression wasn’t particularly censorious, more curious, but I still felt a hot flush of shame rise up within me. “Raffles, I didn’t hear you come back!”

“I can tell that,” Raffles said wryly, and pushed away from the doorframe. He walked towards me slowly, obviously thinking every step of the way. “You really shouldn’t do that.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, immediately contrite. Already I couldn’t believe that I had been anywhere near so foolish, to do such a thing would’ve put not only myself but - far more importantly - Raffles in unspeakable danger. “I knew it was stupid of me, I just couldn’t resist. I’m glad you came in to stop me, before I made such a silly mistake. I promise, I will never do anything of the sort in the future-”

“I didn’t mean that,” Raffles said mildly, as he reached me. He plucked the tiara from my hair, his fingertips brushing briefly against my skull and leaving sparks in their wake, and tossed it back to the pile. He then reached out, and very carefully extracted an art deco necklace that I had admired earlier. “This is far better for your colouring, and will match your eyes too.”

To say that I was shocked would’ve been an understatement. I gawped at him, as he carefully settled the necklace around my neck and fiddled with the clasp. “Raffles, A. J., Are you _sure_?”

Raffles frowned down at me, as if he didn’t quite understand my question. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s the biggest statement piece in the entire collection. I post that on Instagram, somebody is going to notice it immediately,” I argued, and then had to reluctantly admit that our safety wasn’t the only objection I had to this expensive piece of jewellery now hung around my neck. “And besides, it’s far too fine for somebody like me.”

“Bunny-” Raffles started hotly, and then paused. We stared at each other for a long moment, and I found myself wondering in a slightly crazy manner if this would be the first time that a compliment towards me would actually pass his lips. “I really wouldn’t worry about that. While it is the biggest statement piece in the collection, it’s also deliberately the gaudiest piece in the collection. It’s made to look like costume jewellery, and if the plan I put in place works as intended-”

“The one you still won’t tell me all the details of?” I asked, my voice made sour by a mixture of disappointment at not being told everything and disappointment at the lack of a compliment.

“-Then nobody should notice anything awry in the first place,” Raffles finished, and gave me a tolerant look. I don’t know what I was expecting, really. Raffles was quite obviously never going to tell me anything, and even more obviously was never going to tell me that he cared for me outside of a gaudy screen. “Please wear it? For me?”

I hesitated for a long moment more, still sour, but then sighed in defeat. I never could resist Raffles, and I was sure that was a fact that would never change. “Well, _fine_.”

I opened the camera app on my phone again, and tilted it back to the perfect angle. I debated a pout or a ridiculous expression, but in the end decided that it would just overpower the entire photo. I smiled normally as I took a snap of myself and then, the moment I made sure that I wasn’t hopelessly blurred, went to Instagram. I didn’t bother with an extensive caption, just typed a string of words about feeling pretty for once and posted it without a thought. I was well aware that I should’ve felt slightly sick at my daring, but instead I just felt invigorated.

It was no surprise, when I turned back around, to find that Raffles already had his phone out. It was even less of a surprise when, less than a minute later, my phone buzzed to inform me that I had a comment.

**Gentlemancricketer** : It matches your pretty eyes 😉. You should wear more jewellery, it suits you! 🔥🔥🔥

Yet again I was confused, and the fact that I had been expecting to be confused hardly made things any better. I looked up at Raffles again, to see if his expression would tell me anything at all about what he was feeling, but it was pointless. He was already turned, and walking imperiously away. No doubt expecting me to follow him like some sort of lapdog, content to receive whatever crumbs he chose to bestow.

I sighed, and closed my phone. I considered stubbornly resisting him, remaining on my bed with my haul and not allowing myself to get dragged into any further schemes, but in the end I knew that was impossible. I got up and followed him, as loyally as ever.

\--

**4.**

I tried my very best not to sulk, even though I knew I was extremely prone to it, but on this day I couldn’t help myself. I sat in my room, in the slightly nicer flat that I’d been able to rent since falling in with Raffles again, and glowered up at the ceiling angrily.

It had all started when I had started to look at expensive clothes. At first it had just been expensive suits and designer jeans, but then my eyes had started to stray further. To delicate lace cardigans, pretty skirts, fancy ballgowns that I had seen models wear. Pretty, pretty things that I hadn’t allowed myself to consider in years.

I had always been drawn to delicate clothing, had always considered it rather a pity that men’s fashion always seemed to be so drab and grey. I wanted to dress like a peacock, to be pretty enough to draw every eye, and it had always been a secret disappointment that society expected me to restrain myself to dull colours and dull fabric and only the expected masculine things. I really didn’t see why there had to be such strict lines, I really wanted to experiment _more_.

And so, with my confidence buoyed by our latest run of successful heists, I decided that I’d reached the perfect time of life to celebrate. I debated staying relatively sober at first, going for a nice black skirt that went down to mid calf… But then I remembered the way that Raffles looked at me, the way that Raffles always made sure to encourage me to new heights of insanity, and decided that I could afford to be a little more daring. I picked out a nice rainbow coloured skirt, one covered in glitter and deliberately tailored to lie just above the knee.

I’d looked gorgeous, for once I’d _known_ that I looked gorgeous, and had been utterly excited to meet Raffles that night and show him my newest acquisition. Maybe this would finally be the turning point, I had thought with undue optimism, maybe he would finally compliment me in person instead of through a screen and do a lot more besides. Maybe, _maybe_...

In the end, when I had walked into our chosen restaurant and turned several heads along the way, his reaction had been nowhere close to what I had hoped. He had stared at me for several long moments, his eyes wide, and then had proceeded to refuse to look at me for the rest of the night. He didn’t even comment on my clothes once, not even when I deliberately tried to bait him on the subject. Nothing even close to a compliment passed his lips, if anything he was a great deal more caustic than usual.

Which was what had led me to the point of despair. Sitting alone in my room, when I had so hoped to be lying with Raffles in either of our rooms, and glaring up at the ceiling in a state of high despondency. Uncomfortably aware, torturously aware, that the man I cared for the most seemed not to like one of the most fragile parts of me.

The urge to just curl up and ignore the world for a while, go back to plain and inoffensive Bunny who was never comfortable being himself, was strong. But, as I laid there still in my skirt and took in deep breath after deep breath, it became a great deal less appealing to me. Why should I hide away, even for the sake of Raffles? Why should I be anything less than the man I was? He had unchained me from my humdrum life, he could damn well deal with the full implications of that.

My decision made, I grabbed my phone up before I could think better of it. I had a full length mirror in my room, another thing I had brought after Raffles had inducted me into his world, and I determined to take advantage of it. I stood before the glass and snapped several pictures, making sure to twist myself so I got my best angles. In the end I thought I took several rather credible snaps.

Once I was done I hesitated for several seconds, staring down at the pictures on my screen. A part of me did just want to put the phone away, to keep the sight of me in my pretty rainbow skirt private and safe… But this wasn’t about safety, this was about showing Raffles that I didn’t _need_ his approval no matter how much he had done for me. I took in deep breath after deep breath, and then opened Instagram.

**@BunnyM** : felt cute, WON’T delete later. 😘 seriously feel so #blessed to have found this skirt that fits me so well. what do u guys think?

Not that I particularly cared what they thought, what _anybody_ thought, but if I was lucky I would maybe get a few nice thirsty comments that I could use to boost my ruffled self esteem even higher. I made a smug noise, threw myself back down on my bed and triumphantly crossed my legs. Already regrets were starting to set in, there were people who would act far worse than Raffles’ hurtful disinterest after all, but I refused to allow them to shake my mood of confidence. This would turn out great, I would be completely vindicated. It was only a matter of time.

And not that long an amount of time either. To my profound shock, it was only seconds later that my phone buzzed again in my hand. I blinked at it for a moment, slightly confused that one of my followers had already seen my post, and then beamed smugly. I didn’t need Raffles, I could prop my own self esteem up. I unlocked my phone with a quick tap of my finger, and eagerly opened up Instagram again…

Only to be shocked, utterly _shocked_ , beyond all reason.

**@Gentlemancricketer** : You looked so 🔥🔥🔥 tonight. We should definitely do it again some time, looking forward to showing you off all over London and making everybody else jealous. 😉😏

I stared down at my phone for a few minutes in utter shock, then down at my skirt, and then back at my phone again. My mind was awhirl, utterly confused in a way that I seemed to be increasingly often around Raffles. For a moment my finger almost strayed to the reply button, and I almost typed out a long and frenzied and _extremely_ confused question as to why he was toying with me in such a way…

I managed to stop myself in the end, but only barely. I set my phone on my nightstand, and laid back on my bed to resume staring angrily up at the ceiling. I wasn’t sure whether to take it as a positive sign, or to acknowledge it as teasing and get angry in response. So in the end I settled for an in between, blushing angrily up at the ceiling until I finally fell asleep.

\--

**5.**

We kept going on heists, because I couldn’t resist Raffles for more than a handful of seconds at a time. My entire life became a glittering whirl of crime: a necklace stolen here, a bracelet pilfered there, a house broken into quite casually. It was all a rush, made all the giddier by the knowledge that I should’ve felt guilty about it but most certainly didn’t. My initial reluctance to throw myself into the world of crime had quickly faded under the twin blandishments of money and Raffles’ company, and though I would still hardly call myself a hardened criminal I was now at least a blithe one.

What I was feeling, though, was a certain amount of frustration. Our pattern of interaction had continued in much the same way since the day I had posted that picture of myself in the skirt, and if anything had only gotten significantly worse. I talked to Raffles face to face, and nary a word of praise or compliment would pass his lips. I would post the most innocuous photo on Instagram, from a selfie of my face to a rather uninspired picture of a tree, and he would comment with lavish compliments. It was confusing, it was frustrating, it was annoying in a way that few things had ever annoyed me before.

I had grown obsessive about my dissatisfaction, dwelling on it at the most inconvenient points. Such as on a certain morning in the middle of summer, when I had woken up in a hotel room the night after the heist and immediately started dwelling on Raffles’ behaviour towards me. I had done sterling work last night, had even clambered daringly through a few windows myself, but had a single compliment passed his lips? No, he had been just as tight mouthed as ever.

I was angry at Raffles for being so confusing, angry at myself for being so affected by him even after all this time, and that anger led me to make a decision that was perhaps far from the most sensible. It was summer now, and so warm enough for me to start sleeping without any sort of shirt. I pushed the covers down to my waist before I could think better of it, carefully lifted my phone above my head - narrowly managing not to drop it on my face - and took snap after snap of my bare chest until I had the perfect shot.

**BunnyM** : early morning vibes. 😏 always sleepy at this time of day. feel like ive misplaced something…

I wasn’t entirely sure what I was expecting, as I placed my phone on my stomach and waited for any comments to roll in. Perhaps somebody to yell at me and take my mind off such brooding matters. Perhaps somebody to comment thirstily, and remind me that I didn’t need to long so fruitlessly after Raffles. Perhaps, if I was being honest with myself, an excuse to finally snap and tell Raffles exactly how I was feeling to his face.

In the end, when my phone buzzed and I snatched it up from my bare stomach within seconds, what I got was the excuse.

**Gentlemancricketer** : 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 Nobody loses things as prettily as you. 😉 Want any help looking??? 😘😘

I stared down at my phone for a long few moments, stunned, and then I saw red. I had half expected this, even though I would deny it until my last breath, but it was all too much. I sprung to my feet angrily, not bothering to put on a shirt along the way, and stormed over to the connecting door in between our two rooms. Before I could think better of it, I banged on it loudly enough to wake the dead let alone the insomniac thorn in my side.

Raffles, as predicted, opened the door after only a few knocks. His eyes immediately went down to my bare chest but then, to my considerable rage, yanked right back up to my face as if he could hardly bear to stare at it for too long. “Bunny…?”

I perhaps should’ve eased into my anger, or at least tried to explain myself in a coherent fashion. But I was far too het up for anything like that, so instead I found myself blurting: “It’s not fair.”

Raffles blinked slowly, seeming - for the first time since we had reunited - actively confused as to what I was on about. “What’s not fair?”

“Leading me on like this,” I snapped, too angry to take any pleasure in that. He could be as confused as he wanted, I didn’t care for that only made two utterly baffled people in the room. “Commenting on my posts, downright _flirting_ with me online, and never once acknowledging how deeply I feel for you in real life. It’s cruel of you, Raffles, and it’s mean and cowardly and… And it’s just not _fair_. Not when you know how I feel about you, not when we both know that you don’t feel the same way.”

Raffles’ confused expression had progressed to a downright stunned one, as if I had just hit him around the head with a two by four instead of just saying out loud what we both knew to be true. “Bunny, I swear to you that I’m not-”

I crushed a downright stupid flare of sympathy for him, crushed any kind of tender emotion at all. I was furious to the point of tears, and I wanted to revel in that sensation for just a little longer. “Save it.”

“Bunny!”

“For once, just _once_ , I wish you’d tell me that I was cute to my face.” Tears really were pooling in my eyes, and I felt utterly humiliated by them. Which, at present moment, was just one more thing in the string of constant humiliations that my life had become. I swiped at my eyes, not even bothering to hide the movement, and turned away from him with as much dignity as I could muster. “I’m going for a walk. Don’t expect to see me for a while.”

Raffles stepped forward after me, for the first time looking actively stricken by my distress. “Oh, Bunny…”

But it was too late, for whatever bullshit he was about to spout. I slammed the door shut behind me, and leant against it for a long and painful moment before I roused myself to finally get dressed.

\--

**+1.**

When I got back that night I fully intended to just go to bed and sulk at least until morning. I had very little idea of what I would do after that, of whether I would cut Raffles out of my life altogether or force myself to somehow come to terms with his mortifying lack of interest in me, but that part of the plan was at least set and I was determined to feel happy about it.

I did not actually feel happy about it, I felt miserable and wretched and foolishly guilty. And so, when I came back to find the door between our rooms alluringly propped open and one of my favourite songs drifting temptingly through it, it was hard to resist. I stared at it fixedly, as I took off my coat and shoes, and then sighed in resignation and reflected morosely on the fact that I really couldn’t resist Raffles when he set his mind to it. I took three quick steps across the room, and threw it open like a character in a soap opera.

I was even more stunned to find that Raffles had somehow set up a table in his hotel room. And not just any table, but a fancily done up table with what looked like a plateful of my favourite meal on it. I stared at it in shock for a long few moments, my mouth doubtlessly gawping open in a most gormless way. I genuinely, profoundly, had no idea what was going on.

Eventually, with some effort, I regained my ability to speak. “Wha-?”

“Bunny!” And Raffles, on cue, materialised out of nowhere with a bottle of wine clutched in his hand. It was as if he had been waiting for me in a pocket dimension, lingering there anxiously until I stormed through the door again. “I was starting to worry about where you were. I thought about texting you, but I didn’t know if you wanted to hear from me.”

“Raffles…” I managed, and then hesitated for a second. I had meant to remain furious with him, I really had, but the combination of his obvious concern and the effort he had gone to for me robbed me of the heat of my rage. “A.J., what _is_ this?”

“Your favourite meal,” Raffles said with a wry smile, as if to acknowledge the fact that I already knew the answer, and drew a chair out for me in a shockingly courteous gesture. “It seemed the least I could do for you, after I fucked up this entire situation so very badly.”

I genuinely considered just turning on my heel, lifting my nose and leaving the room without another word. I genuinely considered doing so for about five seconds. I slid into the chair that Raffles had drawn out for me, and allowed him to shift me closer to the table. I stared down at the meal he had prepared for me - a nice curry, so much milder than he usually prepared it - and gave a shocked swallow.

Raffles, who seemed pleased at my shock, smiled at me and proffered the bottle again. It was a rosé, from my favourite - extremely expensive - brand. “Wine?”

“Uh, please?” I said, admittedly even more dazed than I usually was, and watched as he poured a generous stream of it into the glass besides my plate. I had many more questions, many more urgent questions for that matter, but the food did smell divine and I had been walking around the town all day in a state of rage. I picked up my fork, and dug in with all due eagerness.

The meal was excellent, though of course that is a fact so obvious that I feel like a food for writing it down. It was perfectly made, perfectly cooked, and perfectly seasoned. I had eaten that meal many times, it was my favourite after all and had been for some time, but never had I eaten an example so perfect.

It was only when I had finished the meal, and pushed the plate away from me to avoid the faintly humiliating temptation to lick it, that I raised my gaze again and looked Raffles slightly reluctantly in the eye. “That was absolutely _delicious_. Did you order in for it?”

Raffles hadn’t eaten as I’d been eating. He had just sat there, swirling his own slightly smaller glass of wine, and watched me intensely as I had consumed the curry with fervour. At my inquiry he gave a small smile, and inclined his head modestly. “I made it myself, actually.”

“You _didn’t_ ,” I said, stunned and disbelieving, and glanced over at the kitchenette in the corner of the room. It was bigger than the average kitchenette in a hotel room, Raffles refused to pay for anything less than the highest quality after all, but it was still hardly a proper kitchen fit to whip up such a delicious meal. “On that little thing?”

“Well…” Raffles shrugged, modest yet again. Or, at the very least, as modest as he ever got.

“Raffles-” I started with enthusiasm, and then paused. A part of me wanted to just immediately forgive him, to roll over and show my belly again without the slightest word of protest, but another part of me resisted the thought of that violently. I may just be a silly bunny, doomed to hop behind braver creatures in a truly pathetic way, but I still deserved better than what he had offered me up until now. “That still doesn’t count as an apology, you know.”

“I know,” Raffles said, looking far less surprised at my new resistance that I would’ve thought, and leaned forward until he could place his glass on the table and fix me with intense eyes. “And so let me apologise properly to you now. I never meant to make you feel upset, or undervalued, or like you meant absolutely nothing to me. I never meant to make you feel bad at all, as a matter of fact, and the fact that I evidently have is one of my biggest regrets to date. I feel that I haven’t made myself entirely clear, that I have just foolishly assumed that you could read my mind and had no issue with my methods of expressing myself. So, if you’re willing to hear me, I will quite comprehensively clear this matter up now.”

I stared at him suspiciously, already slightly stunned by this new openness when before he had been so very closed off. “What do you mean?”

“The fact of the matter is that I actually find you extremely attractive, Bunny, and just assumed that you knew and were entirely unruffled by it.” He didn’t lean back, even though it would’ve probably been easier for him. Instead he just remained leant forward, his eyes deliberately on mine. “I thought that I was the one fruitlessly longing after you, my far kinder and calmer and better companion who was just too high minded to ever return my affections. I have longed after you for months now, Bunny, if not years. Longed after your glorious body, your golden hair, the way you smile at me when I pull off a truly impressive heist, the way you still worry about the people we’re robbing from after all this time, the way that you fret after me when nobody else would. I have longed after every single part of you with desperate intensity, and thought myself far too morally marred to ever have a chance of drawing your regard in return.”

I couldn’t have been more stunned if he had declared his intention to give up a life of crime, and retire into a monastery somewhere remote. I stared at him in shock, my mind whirling at his typically verbose confession. “Are you serious?”

“Perfectly,” Raffles said, and to my by now extremely practiced eye he absolutely meant every single word that he was saying. “The only question is, will you ever be able to forgive me?”

I hesitated for a long moment… But in the end I didn’t even need to, I already knew what my answer would be. I pulled my phone out of the pocket of my jeans, where I had angrily been resisting the urge to check it all day, and swiped it open. It only took one click to open my Instagram account, and just a few more to find Raffles’ profile with that one photo that had been constant ever since we reunited. I didn’t even have to think about my comment, it was that obvious in my head.

Raffles had been staring at me with a confused frown on his brow throughout this process. He seemed about five seconds away from saying something, but when his phone buzzed finally dragged his eyes away from me. He hesitated for a second, but he was a smart man and so already at least guessed what I was about. He slid it out of his own pocket, and quickly opened it up to read…

**BunnyM** : 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥😍😍😍😍😍😍 my forever man!!!

He swallowed, still staring down at his phone, and then looked back up at me with his eyes wider than I’d ever seen them. “Does that mean-?”

“I forgive you,” I said, and finally allowed myself to smile at him again. I felt on the edge of tears once more, but this time they were happy and giddy tears that made me feel like dancing around the room with the force of my joy. “Of course I forgive you, Raffles. I have loved you since the moment you walked back into my life, and I don’t see that changing any time soon. I love your intelligence, your ambition, the way that you never stop no matter what. I love _you_. And so, to be perfectly honest, there’s only one question left in my mind.”

Raffles cocked an eyebrow, but looked decidedly less urbane than he usually did while doing so. It was an extra bit of giddiness, to realize that I had finally managed to stun him too. “Which is?”

I smiled at him impishly, and reached across the table to lace our fingers together. Intimately, as I was allowed to do now. “When can we go social media official?”

He stared at me in shock for a long moment, and then let out the kind of laugh that I had been longing to hear from him for years now. When he rose from his own seat and came around the table there was only joy in my heart, and that joy only increased as he cast aside his phone and leant down to finally give me a proper kiss.


End file.
